Craziness of Death
by Tony Samuels
Summary: Harry knew he was a fool to think that he could conquer Death and escape without any consequences. Stuck between random mood swings, annoyed friends, and a gorgeous Veela, it was safe to say that winning a war was not the end to the chaos that was his life. MoD!Harry.
1. Shadows of Madness

**There will be minor changes from canon.**

 **Warning: Excessive swearing.**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its sequels or prequels.**

* * *

Harry found himself slouched on the steps leading to the Great Hall, propped on an elbow while his other hand held the legendary wand between his calloused fingers. The sky was painted in a vibrant hue of morning colors, scattered across the vast expanse while the Sun was lazily peaking over the clouds, unmindful of the despair that rolled on the desolate lands.

While one part of his conscious felt relieved that there was no darkness smothering him like a cocoon, another foreign part of him yearned for the inky blackness of the shadowless night. The muffled cries and howls of the bereaved were like a dagger to his vulnerable heart but there was a distinct, traitorous part of his soul that welcomed death with a ravenous glee.

It was a part that was born after his fairy tale fight against the dark lord and the point of its birth was not precise but Harry was certain that the innocuous looking wand rolling between his fingers was a prominent factor in its genesis.

Even now, he could feel it thrumming with barely restrained power, craving for more blood.

There was a reason he was away from his morose admirers on this fateful morning. With the dead bodies scattered across the expanse of the Great Hall, the walk from the wrecked door to the staff table was a nightmare risen from the depths of hell. The lifeless eyes of the mourners were like pebbles strewn across the translucent sand of a brackish ocean. They illuminated like a million beacons of light as their beleaguered senses found his presence and the hope that filled their eyes was enough to drown him into a nightmarish slumber.

' _I can't raise people from the dead,'_ he wanted to shout but the dark emotion that choked his throat was enough for the silence to prevail.

People rose to their feet, touching him tenderly and sometimes hard enough to make him wince, drawing solace from the fact that he was alive. That everything they were witnessing was not a despairing dream.

He indulged them, even though he was overwhelmed by his own sleeplessness and pain. It's the least he could do for their suffering. There were a lot of smiles, a few fake laughs and slight tremors in his hand.

But the reason that dragged him away from their admiration was not their suffocating closeness or heart-wrenching sobs.

It was the presence of death that lingered in the hall and the fact that he craved for it.

It was enrapturing. The wisps of black shadows that rose from every inch on the hall were like smoke gliding from a burnt body. They swirled around him, cherishing his presence, and his very soul sang to them in response. It was addicting and frightening at the same time.

For it was not his way of life to seek pleasure from the death of a person.

He hated it. He hated the fact that his soul loved it.

It was like the shadows were asking for his permission to spread doom and destruction. To give life to death.

He could swear that he saw a soul sliding out of a mutilated body of an Auror on the verge of death and not a moment later, pitiful cries filled the hall as one of the students rushed over to the dead body of his father. He could nearly feel death on the edge of his senses, hovering above him like a fallen angel.

With a start, he dashed out of the hall, ignoring the startled shouts of some people and after ten minutes, here he was, on the steps below the door, relishing in the despondence that surrounded him.

"Harry?" a bushy-haired head peeked out of the door and Harry waved his hand tiredly in greeting.

"Oh! Here you are!" Hermione sighed in relief as she stepped outside and the next moment, Ron was beside her.

"What are you doing here, mate? Mom was worried as hell," Ron shifted on his feet as Harry remained still.

"You know, just enjoying the peace," Harry replied, his gaze unmoving from the distant horizon.

"Um, do you want to come inside?" Hermione bit her lip in concern, her gaze flickering to the redhead beside her for reassurance.

"I am not sure," Harry answered in the same soulless tone, worrying his friends even more.

"They are worried for you, Harry. I know you must be feeling overwhelmed but they need you in there. Fred and Remus are dead and right now, Tonks is not faring so well," Hermione shouted, her frayed nerves taking their toll on her emotions.

"Don't you think I know that?" Harry ground out, the elder wand sliding into his palm. "Right now, I can't figure out what the fuck's happening and believe me, their cries are not helping. I am not sure whether it's best for me to go in there and no matter what you say, I am still not fucking sure!"

By the time he finished, his friend's faces were filled with shock and a second later, his own eyes widened in surprise at what he said. That was definitely not him spouting those rage filled words. For god's sake, he never swore in his life!

"I am so sorry!" he apologized before they could regain their bearings. "I really don't know what's happening."

Hermione got out her shock first. "Do you think we should go see Dumbledore, Harry?"

"That old coot can wait," Harry answered flippantly and slapped his palm to his mouth in horror the next moment.

He was sure that Hermione was not this shocked even when she heard about the Horcruxes. God, he should stop opening his mouth from now on.

"Yes, I think that it's a good idea," Harry agreed as he rose to his feet. "I can go to the hospital wing after that to take some rejuvenating potion and some much-needed treatment."

That placated his studious friend and she nodded hesitantly in response. They entered the hall together with Ron trailing behind them and eyes flitted his way the moment he stepped inside.

He made sure to talk as less as possible, not trusting his mouth or mind, and answered most of their concerns with smiles and grins. The trek to the Headmaster's office was a silent one and after a simple request, the dilapidated gargoyle moved to provide an entrance.

The applause that greeted him was ear splitting and he flinched back at the sudden onrush of dreadful memories at the sound.

Albus Dumbledore had tears sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard. Harry only hoped that the wise Headmaster wouldn't freak out when he told him about what's happening.

"The thing that was hidden in the snitch," he walked forward to stand before the portrait. "I dropped it in the forest. I don't exactly know where but I'm not going to go looking for it again."

"A wise and courageous decision," Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction.

"I am going to keep Ignotus's present, though," Harry mentioned and Dumbledore beamed.

"But of course, Harry. It is yours forever until you pass it on!"

"And then, there's this," Harry presented the mighty elder wand and his friends leaned forward to stare at it with reverence. "I have to do something before I can decide what I want to do with this."

He rummaged in the pouch hung around his neck and pulled out two halves of holly, still connected by the finest thread of phoenix feather. He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster's desk, touched it with the very tip of Elder wand. "Reparo!"

As his wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. The warmth that traversed down his arm was enough proof to know that it worked. He placed the repaired wand in his pocket, with the elder wand still clutched in his hand and Dumbledore did not fail to notice it.

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore began in his grandfather's tone that surprisingly grated on Harry's nerves. "The wand has a bloody history that can rival the death toll of wars. The power you obtain from the wand is more trouble than its worth."

"Yes, says the man who used the wand for how many... fifty years?" Harry retorted as he twirled the wand between his fingers.

"I can be accused of desiring its power," Dumbledore sighed as though he was regretting his entire life. "But it is for the greater good, Harry. You are far too innocent and young to suffer the burden of such terrible power."

It was like a switch had flipped on in Harry's mind.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Harry yelled out, startling the occupants of the chamber, including the portraits. "Stop manipulating me even from the grave, you deplorable old man. Do you know where your manipulations led me? To a clearing in forbidden forest, where I was waiting for a death sentence. Any fucks I may give to what you say are left there in that forest. Why can't you let me make my own decisions instead of forming fucked up plans from a fucking portrait!"

"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore shook his head as though he was disappointed by Harry's mere presence.

"Don't you dare take that tone with me," Harry warned as he stepped back in revulsion. "I suffered enough for your manipulations for seventeen fucking years and fuck me if I bear this anymore. I tried to be civil but you are the who fucked this with your unwanted pieces of advice. Now I don't know what I am going to with this wand and that's how it's going to fucking remain unless I decide otherwise."

He sauntered over to the door and nobody dared to speak up. "And you two," he gestured to his frozen friends who were close enough that air might suffocate if stuck between them.

"No need to prove to everyone that you are a couple now. You are not joined by hip from birth. Eventually, people are going to notice that you are a fucking couple, so, kindly stop that nauseating act for now."

With that, he rushed out of the door, leaving the chamber in suspended quietness.

"Ms. Granger, did anything noticeable happened during Harry's fight with Voldemort?" Dumbledore queried as he stroked his beard in contemplation.

"No, professor. I don't think so," Hermione replied as she discreetly stepped away from her boyfriend. Ron was still too bewildered to notice it.

"Hmm. Did he tell you about what happened in that forest or why he had done so?"

"No. He disappeared to god knows where before we could ask him and when we finally found him, he was...annoyed, as you can see, so, I didn't prod him."

Dumbledore narrowed his eyes imperceptibly as he pondered over what he had just heard. He had assumed that Harry would've explained everything to his friends the moment the war was over. It seemed that war changed Harry Potter and it's not for the better. Could this be the result of the Horcrux? But Tom was dead and that meant that the Horcrux must have been destroyed. Then what's happening here?

"Ms. Granger. I know these are hard times and people are still recovering from this harrowing ordeal. But we must not let the peace get to our minds and forget that danger always lurks in the shadows. I wish you can keep an eye on Harry, for his sake, of course. War affects people drastically and such a young mind shouldn't have faced the brunt of its pressure. Can you do that for Harry, Ms. Granger?"

"Sure, Professor. It's my duty as his friend," Hermione nodded with vehemence as she resolved to help her best friend.

* * *

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Harry held his head in his hands as he cursed rapidly. "What the fuck was I shouting?"

While he could not deny that he had an inner aversion to the Headmaster's schemes and a distinct dislike for his constant manipulation, Harry would never retaliate against anyone, for even if he was just a chess piece on the headmaster's board, everything did turn out fine, after all.

Shouting at people...or even portraits was so out of character for him that it wasn't even plausible. Or funny.

From when the fuck did he began to swear so much? From when did he lie to his own friends?

He conveniently omitted the part where the stone returned to his pocket the moment he dropped it. What he told the headmaster was a half-truth, anyway. He did drop it in the forest and he wouldn't go searching for it but if it constantly returned to his pocket, who was he to blame? A dose of his own medicine for Albus Dumbledore, a part of his mind cackled in glee.

But while he wouldn't go apologizing to the headmaster, he owed another apology to his friends. If this continued, their conversations would be one-sided, with Harry shouting in rage and then apologizing in haste.

As he paid no heed to the direction he was going, he was startled out of his reverie when he came across a mourning angel leaning by the window side. She was oblivious to his presence as she morosely stared out of the window.

With smears of blood splattered across her pale blue dress, gashes adorning her usually blemish free porcelain skin and dirt caked silver hair, she had no right to look so beautiful.

He trudged forward, doubting whether he was invading her privacy but before he could make a hasty retreat, she shifted her blue-eyed gaze to him. At the smile that blossomed on her face, Harry halted in his tracks and he was unsure whether he could move even if he tried.

There was a bloody cut across her cheek and what appeared like tear tracks were running down her angelic visage. But the smile overpowered her every imperfection and Harry cursed his heart for thudding violently in his chest at her glowing smile.

Exhausted by war and wearied by the death of comrades, Harry felt that she never looked more beautiful.

Perhaps except on her wedding day.

On that day was the first time in his whole life when his heart stopped beating in his chest and then resumed to save his life as he stared unabashedly at the gorgeous Veela in her knee length, white wedding dress. At that time, he disregarded it as the effect of her allure or something that every male must have felt in the wedding tent. Surely, everyone was mesmerized by her beauty and jealousy writhed in his chest like a coiled snake or a raging dragon as he shifted his glance to Bill Weasely.

When the wedding was canceled abruptly due to death eater attack, Harry buried his fist in a wall for feeling ridiculously happy for the failed wedding.

Then he saw her again when she appeared at Hogwarts to help them with the war and Harry had to dig his fingers into his palms to keep himself from dragging her out of this dangerous war zone. She appeared too innocent, too beautiful, to be marred by the horrors of the war. But then, he was three years younger than her and he was leading the war, so, he didn't want to sound like a hypocrite.

"Um, 'arry?" she mumbled softly, with concern etched on her pale face as he stood completely still.

"Yes!" Harry blinked his eyes rapidly to dispel the memories floating in his mind.

"Are you fine?" she asked in a worried tone.

'How many times was I asked the same question in the past hour?' he mused to himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry waved off her concerns. "I am not sleep deprived or about to keel over in exhaustion."

She tilted her head in confusion, unable to guess whether he was joking or actually serious. Their acquaintance was limited to his fourth year and a few encounters at the Burrow, so, he couldn't blame her for not comprehending what he said.

"It's just that something weird is happening and I can't seem to figure it out," Harry ran a hand through his hair, messing his hair even more than usual.

"Ah, I see."

Her English had improved drastically during her one year stay in Britain when she worked at Gringotts and these days, her french accent only seemed to slip out when she was unable to control her emotions. He missed it terribly.

"My papa is an Auror and he is very paranoid, you see. He always feels that some conspiracy is happening around and he should solve it. Most of the times, he is correct, I know, but sometimes, it's just paranoia. Born from battles and work," she said with a frown.

She seemed flustered at his lack of response. "Not zhat I am saying that it iz paranoia but it can be. Oh, I am not veery good at zhis, non?"

Her french accent was doing the most peculiar things to his mind and body. It was not unlike floating in an ocean of pleasure or drifting along the wind on his broom.

This couldn't be the effect of her allure, could it? He heard that allure of any Veela was similar to an imperious curse and Harry was immune to imperious. Voldemort was a dead proof of that fact.

This was a primal lust, born from desperation. His relationship with Ginny was a need for companionship. Not a passion filled romance or lust filled haze. But looking at the Veela standing before him, he could perceive an inferno raging in his chest and it was consuming. Deep down, he knew that these amplified feelings were the result of what was happening to him since morning. But, dammit! It was addictive.

The mixed effect of all these factors was so enthralling that he completely forgot that Fleur Delacour was the fiancee of his best friend's brother.

"'arry, you are scaring moi," Fleur leaned forward to scrutinize him and the closeness broke the barrier he was holding to quell his instincts.

One moment he was wondering just how blue her eyes were and the next moment, his parched lips were pressed against her soft, pink ones.

It was awkward, to say the least, with her being as unmoving as a rock while his lips were cradling hers in a soft embrace, placing gentle but thirsty kisses and inadvertently, his hand rose to tangle his fingers in her silver locks to balance her neck while his other hand slid behind her to settle on her lower back.

It might be her troubled mind sending mixed signals or her exhausted body betraying her, but, her hand slithered up his shirt to rest on his chest and that initiative was enough for Harry to deepen the kiss and he thought he heard a moan emanating from her mouth. He scraped his teeth across her lower lip, softly biting it and a shudder wracked his body as she released another moan.

Her warmth was burning him while his own passion engulfed his insides in a searing hotness and the sweet taste of her lips sent his mind into an overdrive. The pulse in her neck tingled his fingertips as he pressed them against her flush skin and his other hand was struggling to stay in its place and not shift any lower onto her plump backside.

Pulling her curvaceous body closer to him, he pushed her against the window, wobbling against each other, while her lean fingers mussed up his hair and as his hand on her back collided hard against the decrepit window, it shattered under pressure.

Harry broke the kiss abruptly and pulled back as though he was burned, which might be true. As he realized what he had just done, guilt spread through his veins like poison and regret drenched him like cold rain from the heavens.

Fleur licked her puckered lips and her fingertips brushed her tingling lips as she blinked her eyes open. Even in her bewildered state, she looked utterly divine.

His breath left him like rushed gasps while his heart was still racing in his chest. His fingers twitched incessantly as he gulped to drown the tension enveloping his body.

"No, no, fuck!" Harry pulled his hair like a madman and Fleur stepped back in fright but there was not much space behind her. "I am sorry but I can explain."

Steadying his breaths, Harry tried to appear as contrite as possible while he smoothed down his shirt as Fleur bunched it up in her hand during their steamy kiss.

"Fleur, I may sound crazy but I think I am having mood swings."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Review!**

 **Sorry about not updating some of my other works but I was fairly busy during the last week and now, I thought of beginning the streak with a new story.**


	2. The Loose Ends

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its sequels or prequels.**

* * *

Harry opened his bleary eyes to find out that he was lying in the Hospital wing, nursing a mild headache and a dull throb in his wand arm. Automatically, his fingers searched for his wand, as the instincts he developed over the run seemed to cling to him like a baby fowl.

His instincts blared when his fingers found his hand to be empty and just as he was about to panic, the elder wand appeared in his hands, spreading a reassuring warmth through his arm.

He breathed in relief but his heart rate quickened when an angelic voice reached his ears. "'arry? Are you awake?"

"I think so," Harry replied, taking comfort from the fact that he could blow up the whole hospital wing if the encounter turned out to be too embarrassing. Only then did he realize that blowing things shouldn't comfort him.

And like a rush of water from the top of a mountain, the memories of what happened before he fell unconscious drifted into his mind, sending him into another frenzy of panic.

He closed his eyes again, deciding that giving in to his exhaustion seemed like the best option. But fate had it that he would not escape this encounter unscathed.

"Wake up, Mr. Potter," the stern voice of Prof McGonagall hit him like a blast of cool air on a Sunday morning. "You are not fooling anybody with that act."

"Don't be a pain in the ass, Minerva," Harry grumbled and a moment later, several gasps echoed through the hospital wing, deeming that Harry had enough sleep for today.

"I am wide awake!" he palmed his face to hide the healthy flush that graced his face. Merlin, it was too early in the morning for him to be mortified.

"Mind your language, Mr. Potter," Minerva appeared as though someone had stolen her milk bowl. "I will excuse your behavior, for now, considering that you seem tired. But do not expect the same courtesy every time."

"Sure, Minerva," Harry replied offhandedly but Minerva's glare made him reconsider his words. "I'll remember that, Prof McGonagall."

She gave a stiff nod before allowing others to congregate beside his bed. It seemed like Hermione and Ron heeded his words, as they were at arm's distance from each other. Ginny took the seat Fleur vacated and Harry tried his best to not show his disappointment.

Fleur seemed content with standing idly at a distance, while occasionally glancing his way with an apprehensive frown on her heart shaped face. Harry was certain he knew the reason for the frown, or to be accurate, he knew he was the reason for the frown but it would not do to dwell on such troubling things when surrounded by friends.

Tonks was leaning by the bedpost on the bed beside his, with her legs spread over and arms crossed. She was staring the other way, with a blank expression on her weary face and Harry made no attempt to disturb her peace.

McGonagall, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Arthur Weasley were standing by his feet, with their expression schooled and eyes vacant.

He vaguely perceived that they appeared to be surrounding from all sides, with no room left for to escape, as though he was a prisoner to be detained. His wand did not seem to like that thought as it thrummed dangerously between his fingers. All in good time, he placated.

"I do not mind such concern for me," he began warily, eyes darting from one face to another before settling on McGonagall. "But I hope to get out of this wing as soon as possible. Not my favorite place, as you already know."

There were a few lip twitches and the atmosphere cooled down considerably but they remained unmoving.

"Mr. Potter, first, we have to thank you on behalf of the entire Britain for defeating the dark lord," Kingsley announced in a gruff tone, eliciting nods from all the people.

"Didn't have much choice," Harry shrugged, surprising the people around him with his blithe answer. "But can we deal with this after I get out of here?"

"Sure, Mr. Potter," Kingsley acquiesced with a slight smile. It seemed like even he was more than happy to deal with this privately.

Harry was about to rise out of the bed when Mrs. Weasely appeared before him out of nowhere. "You have to rest, young man. There is no need to jump around right now."

"I am fine, Mrs. Weasely," Harry tried to smile but all he managed was a grimace. The impulsive attitude was threatening to barge to the forefront but he was confining it with herculean effort. It wouldn't do to hurl expletives at his dearest comrades, especially when it seemed as though they were suspecting something.

"A few more hours will help, Harry," Mrs. Weasely pacified in her mothering tone.

While he would've consented with her request with an exasperated on any fine day, it seemed that his impudent side that manifested a day ago was not as amenable as him.

"I just want to get the fuck out of here!" Harry shouted, jolting the occupants out of their morning serenity. "What's so fucking hard to understand in that?"

With a huff, he jumped to his feet, with the blanket still wrapped around him and strode out of the room without a backward glance. The people were still flabbergasted by his outcry to stop him and only after he stepped out of the wing did they compose themselves.

"I told you he will be furious," Tonks remarked to break the silence and all they could do was a nod.

* * *

His attire drew raised a few eyebrows and amused glances from the people walking through the corridors but either they respected him too much to comment on it or his expression was still rather pissed. 'A combination of both, maybe,'

Even with no idea regarding the direction he was going in, he was not surprised to find himself in front of the portrait of the fat lady. She was sipping wine from a goblet, with a proud bearing and Harry had to suppress a scoff.

"Password."

"Fuck You."

She spat out the wine she was drinking to stare at him perplexedly and at his narrow-eyed glare, the door opened with a bang. "Defeating a dark lord doesn't exempt you from showing proper manners, Harry Potter!"

She must be glad that he didn't blast the door to high heavens, he thought as he sauntered into the common room. The wreckage inflicted upon the Gryffindor common room could rival that of the Great Hall.

'Probably Death Eaters who were still fond of their dear house'.

But the dorm rooms were fairly better in comparison, as the people might have lost their enthusiasm by the time they demolished the common room. Leaving the hospital robe by the entrance, he entered the bathroom to turn his anger into steam.

* * *

He stepped out of the Gryffindor dorms only after he made sure that he wouldn't let out profanities or hex anyone in sight. Considering that people were far too enthusiastic to kiss his feet, there was a good chance of another mishap happening in this castle.

Reining his temper, which had a nasty habit of springing up at the most opportune times, he greeted anyone who smiled his way and indulged people with small chat.

Kingsley met him when Harry was on his way to the Great Hall and in a reminder of his outburst in the hospital wing, the older man did not utter a word. Harry's initial plan was to meet up with Tonks, as he could understand how much she was suffering, but he decided that he should tie up a few loose ends before having that fated conversation. Empathy wouldn't work when he was angry at every being on Earth.

"I hear that you are the interim minister, Kingsley. Congratulations."

"I see that as a burden rather than an accomplishment. Of course, you should know how it feels like," Kingsley commented with a cautious glance at the Boy-who-lived-twice.

To Kingsley's apparent relief, Harry let out a chuckle. "Spoken like a true politician."

"I will take that as a compliment," Kingsley smiled shrewdly. "But I must confess that I might still need your help. The people will need a face they recognize and adore. This nation is far too ingrained in its misguided peace that it can take years for them to find the right path."

"I am not going to be your poster boy," Harry managed to spit out without any venom lacing his tone. He was being surprisingly calm if he might say so.

"And I am not asking you to be," Kingsley pacified as they turned at yet another corridor. "All I desire is to instill confidence in the people that this government won't be like the previous one. The process will be exhausting without your help."

"A discussion for another time, then," Harry suggested as they reached the Great Hall. "So, are the Malfoys still here?"

"Yes. There they are," Kingsley pointed to a family huddled at the end of a table, managing to sit as far as possible from other families. That in itself was a major clue.

The group that greeted him in the hospital wing was present in the Great Hall, with the expected exception of Tonks. While most of they hesitated to come over to him, Hermione did not share their apprehension.

"Harry!"

"Ah, 'mione," he used that nickname with a vague hope that it might appease her. Judging by the incline at the corner of her lips, he was successful. "You might be tired of hearing it, but, Sorry."

"It's fine," she waved her hands in front of her frantically. "We shouldn't have ambushed you the second you woke up."

"You are the best!" he grinned widely and pulled her into a hug.

When he released her from his hold, there was an evident shock on her tanned face. He furrowed his brows, contemplating what stupid thing he might have done now.

"Normally, you never initiate a hug," she explained at his puzzled expression. Even as she said that, a wide smile was blooming on her face.

"I can make an exception for my best friend," he mumbled with a rosy flush. He thought that the only disparity was that he was easy to angry. It seemed that anything that could make him mortified was included in the list.

Her only answer was a playful chuckle. "So, what are you planning?"

"I am hoping to have a chat with the lovely Malfoy family," Harry answered and that managed to dim her smile.

"Do you think this is the best time?" Hermione bit her lip as she usually did when she was hesitant. It seemed like his recent outbursts did have an effect if Hermione was hesitant to question him.

"There may not be another chance," Harry pointed out as he began to walk to the end of the table, with Hermione and Kingsley dutifully trailing behind him.

His stroll drew a lot of glances and while a few people inched closer to his destination, most of them seemed content to not eavesdrop of what might occur.

At the sight of their group, the Malfoy family collected themselves. Harry propped himself onto the table before them, so that they were below his level of sight and stared expectantly.

They did not fail to react. "Mr. Potter, for what pleasure do we owe your presence?" Lucius gritted out, appearing as though he would strangle Harry if he got the chance.

"No need for any pleasantries, Lucius," Harry smirked down at them. "I am not Voldemort to expect such things from you."

Even after Voldemort's death, Lucius flinched minutely at the use of the name. "Of course. But you did not provide the reason."

"Oh, I just wanted to convey my gratitude to Mrs. Malfoy for saving me in the forest," Harry bowed slightly in response but the Malfoy matriarch remained frozen in her seat. "And discuss some of the concerns I have in my mind."

"Please do," Lucius said in his silky tone, still trying to maintain his pureblood grace. "I am all ears."

"What will be your next course of action?"

"I do not see how that is of your concern, Mr. Potter," Lucius drawled. "I will inform the authorities, if needed, and rest assured, I won't be leaving Britain."

"It does concern me, you see," Harry rubbed his palms together, as though he was about to devour his latest meal. "It became my concern when you deemed fit to release a fifty-foot basilisk in the school. It became my concern when you put your intentions before the safety of the school as a governor on the board. It became my concern when you tried to kill me in every instance we have met after that."

Harry shifted his glance to the ashen-faced Draco Malfoy, who was doing his best to remain as inconspicuous as possible. At Harry's gaze, he lurched like a deer caught in a chase.

"Even though he had failed to do so, your son did try to kill the headmaster. The intention in itself is harmful and do not give me the crap about being forced to do so. His actions led to death eaters invading the school and your lovely wife made an unbreakable oath with one Severus Snape to kill the headmaster, which was an astounding success."

Harry clapped with apparent disdain on his face. The sound echoed hollowly in the silent Great Hall, as not a person dared to even squeak.

"So I believe you can understand why I am reluctant to let you out of my sight. For you information, at the moment, _I am the Authority,_ "Harry finished with a stern nod.

"We are no longer affiliated with any dark cause," Lucius began with evident trepidation induced into his tone.

"Said a man in 1981," Harry interrupted, cutting his hand across him. "I remember a muggle saying. 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.' The ministry will be wise to remember that."

Kingsley's nod went unnoticed by many.

"Stepping to the winning side at the last moment seems like a recurring habit to you, Lucius. How am I to believe that when another war rages, your family will not take any part in it? While Mrs. Malfoy did save my life and for that, I will be eternally grateful, she only did out of her love for her son, who was about ready to kill me. If her son had died, then this country would have seen a different sunrise today. Her loyalty is to her family, not to justice."

Lucius kept his jaw shut but anyone could see that he was struggling to remain silent.

"So, now that we cleared that up," Harry clapped again with fake enthusiasm as he plastered a smile on his face. "I only have three proposals for you. Are you willing to listen, Lucius?"

"I seem to have no other choice," Lucius's pride seemed to be crumbling down to ashes as he stared up at the smiling boy. He expected the light side to remain unassertive even after the death of their leader but it seemed that this boy was as cruel as Lucius's previous master.

"Glad, we reached an accord."

Harry shifted his glance to the people in the hall to notice that most of them had their mouths wide open, staring at him with something akin to respect or fear. His own friends had looks of disbelief stuck to their faces, with varying degrees of astonishment.

But Harry's gaze stuck to a silver-haired veela, whose piercing blue-eyed stare was clung to him, with an expression on her face that Harry couldn't place. But then, Harry noticed that she was standing beside Bill Weasely, who had an arm wrapped around her waist and another pang of binding jealousy coursed through him.

"You will renounce all of your properties and titles, except the Malfoy Manor. All of your money will be confiscated by the ministry with only a single vault remaining in place for your needs. Believe me, if this war had continued, that would've been the end result."

Harry was about to end it at that but he was feeling particularly vicious today. "After all, it shouldn't be tough for a man who submitted his own wand to another wizard."

Lucius bristled at the insult but clenched his fingers to quell his anger.

"You will meet with your old allies who fled, even if it's nigh impossible and convey this message to them: They should appear at the Ministry by the end of this month and surrender to the Auror force. Otherwise, they will have a death sentence placed upon their heads and I will personally see to it that it will come to fruition."

"If it ever reaches me that you have turned to your old ways again, you will die. As simple as that. I am not Albus Dumbledore to pat your hand with a genial smile and send you off with a lemon drop every time you fuck up," Harry jumped to his feet and he had to stifle a cackle when the three Malfoys jerked back in response.

"Mrs. Malfoy, I believe that you are not responsible for the acts of your family."

"I can swear an oath if you wish so," Narcissa spoke with conviction.

"There is no need. But if you are found out to be an accomplice, then as the Head of the Black family, I will annul your marriage."

Narcissa gulped before clearing her throat. "I will keep that in mind, my lord."

"Then I believe that we're done here," Harry ambled forward to reach Kingsley, who was wearing a look of grudging respect.

Hermione was still as a rock, a horrified expression marring her face and Harry did not need to see the remaining populace to perceive that they would be wearing similar expressions.

"Don't you just love it when people have such heartfelt discussions, Kingsley?"

* * *

Harry found himself in the same place he was during the early hours of the morning; propped up on his elbows while staring at the horizon.

The night was creeping through the orange cloak of the sky, dressed as a devil while being as malicious as a shadow. He could feel his senses extending further as the time progressed and the day darkened.

The shadows were relaying information to him about every magical being roaming in these lands and just now, he felt another person walking away from his range of perception while another two entered the range.

If only he wasn't immersed in the mystery regarding the drastic change in his personality, he would've pondered upon this new ability he seemed to have acquired.

"You can come out, Fleur," Harry sighed as the heavy door opened slowly. "Any longer and I would've doubted if you were spying on me."

He heard footsteps behind him until the presence took a seat beside him. "I might be spying."

"Of all the English people in the hall and they sent _you_ to check or as you say, spy on me?" Harry huffed with indignation. Were they actually that afraid of him right now?

"Nobozy zent me," Fleur sniffed imperiously. "I came 'ere on my own."

"Uh huh," Harry muttered skeptically.

"It iz true," Fleur mumbled while fiddling with the hem of her dress. Harry's eyes automatically became transfixed to her fingers as they played. "I approve of what you said to zhose people."

"You do?" Harry twisted to the side to stare at her face. In the darkness of the night, her skin was glowing with incandescence, bathing her appearance in an ethereal glow. He once again had the unbearable urge hold her face between his palms and kiss her senseless but he was sure that she wouldn't appreciate this time. He had no intention to know whether the tales about veela producing fire when angry were actually true or not. "I thought the French people are more...graceful with their dealings with the criminals."

"No," she shook her head, making her shimmering blond hair swing behind her. "We appear as a peaceful nation because we have harsh punishments for criminals, so, there are fewer crimes. If papa were here, he would've agreed on wiz you."

"That's good, I think."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence but Harry knew that this tranquility wouldn't be permanent. They would have to deal with this peculiar tension lying between them before they could actually hold a decent conversation.

"So, um, what happened yesterday..." Fleur began with an embarrassed inclination to her tone but Harry interrupted before she could continue the statement.

"Was an impulsive mistake on my part. I am really sorry about that, Fleur."

"So, it waz just a mistake," Fleur sniffed audibly. "It iz fine, zhen. You seem to be making a lot of impulsive mistakes zhese dayz."

Harry blinked owlishly. Wasn't she supporting his words till now?

"What do you mean?" Harry queried but she was already rising to her feet.

"I'll zee you later, Harry. You must be really buzy with all zhese."

'I am sitting alone on the steps on a cold night,' Harry wanted to point out at the 'busy' remark but she already disappeared into the hall, leaving Harry to contemplate over just what stupid thing he had said this time.

* * *

"What is it I hear about you threatening the Malfoys?" Tonks shot her question the moment he entered through the hospital doors. Her face still appeared sullen and fatigued but her tone improved a little – it was way better than the 'why am I even alive?' tone she was using since morning.

"And how exactly did you find out?" Harry took the seat by her headrest.

"A little french bird told me," Tonks answered glibly.

"Ah," Harry nodded tiredly. "So, do you approve or will you be skirting around the issue, just like the others?"

"Ooh, I am all for making those bastards pay," she whispered with venom laced in her tone. "But I think Remus will probably disapprove. Even with that tough exterior, he is a pacifist at heart, you know."

Her voice broke as she reached the end and Harry placed his hand on her palm for reassurance. "I don't see him complaining."

With a sniffle, she composed herself. "So, what will you do now?"

"Turn Grimmauld place into a livable home first," Harry informed with a sigh. "I don't think my godson will like that place as it is."

"Thanks for the offer but I am planning on living with my mother, Harry."

"At least every night for dinner? I am sure Mrs. Tonks won't mind"

"We'll see about that."

"You are mean, Tonksie," Harry whined as he poked her arm, eliciting a tired chuckle from her. "A little fresh air will improve your character."

"Sure, Healer Potter," Tonks scoffed with a roll of her eyes. "And what else do you recommend?"

"A feast at Grimmauld place tomorrow?"

"Damn! You are relentless."

"That's my best trait, Mrs. Lupin. You would do well to remember that," Harry raised his chin as though looking down upon her, in a clear imitation of a certain pureblood.

Tonks let out another laugh. "That reminds me. Tell me about this incident with the Malfoys."

"Didn't that french bird already tell you?" Harry cocked an eyebrow. He really wanted to know what the hell Fleur said about his so-called 'threatening'.

"She was so excited that half the time the words slipped out in French. It was really confusing, you know. If not for her engagement, it would've thought that she has a crush on you."

With renewed vigor, Harry elucidated the whole incident while imitating Malfoy at the funny moments and by the time he finished, she was howling with laughter. "The constipated look! Oh, that must be priceless. I should have been there, dammit!"

"Thank you, Harry. I really needed that," Tonks said as her laughter subsided but Harry suspected that the moment he turned his back to her, she would drown in depression once again.

"Anytime, Tonks."

"What after livening up that wretched place?" Tonks spoke up as he rose to his feet.

"I need to tie up a few loose ends."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Review?**


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